


The Sacred One

by Eralk Fang (EralkFang)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Dry Humping, M/M, Mpreg, Semi-Public Sex, Space Latin, The Force Did It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:02:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5956363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EralkFang/pseuds/Eralk%20Fang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The impossibility of Kylo Ren's immaculate Force conception is driving General Hux to distraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sacred One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [the following prompt at tfa_kink](https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/1082.html?thread=1155898#cmt1155898):
>
>> So Kylo is pregnant via The Force (no other pairings please, let's just have him immaculately knocked up), and all that extra power surging through him and a little bump under his robes are driving Hux up the wall. He knows he shouldn't be turned on by what's essentially an innocent and miraculous thing, but God, being pregnant suits Kylo. A lot. 
>> 
>> Bonus if Kylo finds out.
> 
> Find the Taylor Swift lyric and win… I dunno, more smut, probably?

Hux is a modern man of the galaxy; he’s seen pregnant men before. When he was thirteen, one of the men serving with his father fell pregnant. His father had made it very, _very_ clear that he wasn’t to stare, ask any inappropriate questions, or even notice. 

For its relative uncommonness in the First Order, it’s still simple mammalian biology—life and sex and gender all find their way in the galaxy, and so does, therefore, the statistical inevitability of a pregnant man. Basic facts of human reproduction are hardly exotic. 

Still, he’s always known the process to require at least two people.

“Pregnant?” Hux repeats, incredulous.

“Pregnant,” Snoke growls over the hologram’s audio connection. Ren stares mutely through Snoke’s hologram, bare face rigid. 

“Ren has a… partner?” The notion of someone being attached enough to Ren to knock him up is a trying one, certainly. Hux has always assumed that the Knights of Ren were celibate or forbidden from attachment.

“I don’t,” Ren says. “It is the will of the Force.” 

Snoke nods, approvingly, and Hux chokes down the impossibility of such a thing in the name of professionalism. 

 

Later, on the command deck, Hux finds his mind wandering back to the literal issue at hand. How _absurd_. Hux has had enough experience with Ren to admit the Force’s power and utility. He’s seen it augment Ren’s not inconsiderable physical strength and give him access to the minds of the weak-willed.

But _augment_ is the key word. How could the Force _generate_ genetic material on its own? Count on Ren to be so obstinately mystical as to frustrate the laws of nature. 

Nevertheless, it reminds him of something. It eats at him throughout the day, whenever he makes the mistake of paying attention to it. He thinks of it at luncheon. He thinks of it while enduring a deeply boring and deeply necessary budgetary meeting. He thinks of it when he reviews a translation of a summons in High Galactic in bed that night. 

It’s an excellent translation, save for one thing: the translator has botched a noun-verb agreement in regards to gender. The trouble is not so much the translation itself, but that the position of Priest-Prince of Monor II is currently occupied by a woman for the first time in living memory. He considers leaving the translation as is—it is, technically, correct—and he considers trying to feminize the High Galactic for Priest-Prince, but Priest-Princess—or would it be Priestess-Princess?—have such different connotations in High Galactic.

Hux rubs at his eyes. Monor II, unfortunately, provides a much-needed ore for the oscillator, and they can’t risk offending them; the ore is temperamental enough that it’s easier to let the Monorians mine and refine the stuff instead of just doing it themselves. Best to sidestep the issue all together and just refer to the Priest-Prince by a gender neutral title. He types out the oldest gender-neutral religious title he can remember in High Galactic, and finally places the errant thought that’s been annoying him all day. 

“The Sacred One” is the title he’s looking for, and he remembers where he’s last seen it used—in “The Suffering of the Sacred One”. It’s a passage from some historical text or other, although no one quite knows where from. That limits its historical application, but it was a standard text used in the instruction of High Galactic when he was at the academy. He’d been assigned to translate it into High Galactic in order to progress into the advanced class. 

How did it go? The Sacred One was wandering in the desert in search of the great well at the center of the world, but it had run dry. She offered herself up as sacrifice to whatever forces had drained the well, and—

The next part he finds he remembers word for word, because of the tricky nature of repetition in High Galactic. _She felt as though she had been pierced through by a burning flame. The burning flame pierced her again and again, in her mouth, in her heart, and in her stomach. The flame burned her, but the pain was a sweet one. When she woke, the great well at the center of the world was full again._

There’s more to the story—the Sacred One goes on to become Mother of Us All, as it was presumably the origin myth for whatever religious order had ruled the story’s lost homeworld—but he’s found what he’s looking for. High Galactic is such a prim language. “Stomach” could mean anything below the navel. Perhaps the Sacred One had literally become Mother of Us All, if that mystic flame had impregnated her. 

It’s not an answer, but he feels on much more solid ground regarding Ren’s mystic pregnancy with that information in hand. Satisfied, he corrects the translation and turns his mind to sleep. 

 

Hux wakes up sweating and _hard_. He takes himself roughly in hand out of habit before he makes the logical connection as to why, and images from his dream flood his brain.

Ren, alone in the desert, naked against the howling wind. The pale expanse of his back, his spine arching obscenely, his face contorted in spiritual ecstasy, his stomach swelling. Hux squeezes his eyes shut, hand twisting furiously around his cock. He feels a little disturbed by this response to both Ren and a pregnancy, but not disturbed enough to stop. Instead, he tries to hold onto the dream, but the images fade. So he supplements them with new images—Ren meditating, naked thighs quivering with anticipation, Ren being forced to his hands and knees by the power of the Force flowing through him, Ren steadfastly refusing to touch his own red, leaking cock.

Hux comes quickly, almost surprising himself. He breathes heavily in the quiet of his room, before rolling over and falling back asleep.

 

Hux assumes that’s the end of it. He’s had similar dreams in the past—some about a member of his staff before he transferred out, one about Phasma after her final promotion, and a memorable but deeply confusing one about Grand Moff Tarkin while at the academy. Hux accepted them as the natural, if odd, outlet for his sexual energy while he neglected it in favor of his career. The fantasies had always passed in an evening, leaving his professional duties and relationships untouched.

But it’s not as if his relationship with Ren was ever exactly professional—openly antagonistic, more like. And now? He’s more aware of Ren’s body than he’s ever been of any of his lovers’.

The tilt of Ren’s head, for instance, when he deigns to comment during a debriefing, makes Hux think of the line of Ren’s neck. Ren’s hands curling into fists when frustrated reminds Hux of his long, white fingers scrabbling for purchase in the dunes. Meetings with Snoke, the only time Hux regularly sees Ren without his helmet on, are even more tense; Hux can’t look at his mouth without imagining it occupied elsewhere. 

And whenever Ren touches his stomach—which he does, briefly and discreetly, in such a way that you’d have to have been looking to notice—Hux’s mouth goes dry. Every time Ren does that, Hux feels as complicit in the pregnancy as if he’d impregnated Ren himself. 

Alone in his quarters, after coming so hard over the idea of a pregnant Ren sucking his cock that he feels like he’s been punched in the stomach, Hux thinks, _It’s going to be a very long nine months_.

 

After the debriefing, the other officers file out efficiently, leaving Hux and Ren alone in the conference room. Before Hux can flee, as he’s been fleeing any chance of being left alone with Ren for the past week, Ren turns to him and says, casually, “You’ve been dreaming about me.”

Hux knows there’s no use denying it; instead, he freezes. Ren removes his helmet and sets it down on the conference table with an ominous thud that reverberates through Hux like a klaxon. Ren’s expression is unreadable, and his mouth is distracting.

Ren catches Hux’s chin with his fingers, tilting his head up their insignificant height difference. It’s a show of dominance, an obvious one that Hux would normally mock him for, but Hux can feel the power radiating off of Ren like heat. It’s disorienting. It’s intoxicating. Hux struggles to regulate his breathing.

Ren parts Hux’s mouth with his gloved thumb, and then Hux feels the telltale ache of someone rifling through his mind. The dream, now mostly faded, comes back in screaming color, as well as other select images, fast and furious, like a holovid stuck on fast forward. There’s Ren’s face twisted in spiritual ecstasy, there’s Ren sucking his cock, there’s last night’s fantasy of Hux fucking Ren face-to-face, hands splayed out over his swollen belly. 

The images overwhelm Hux’s vision; somewhere, distantly, he feels his cock twitch and stir to attention. When his vision clears, Ren is staring at him intently, his thumb moving in Hux’s mouth. Ren’s thumb pops out of his mouth as he cups Hux’s head, and then he’s kissing Hux furiously, backing him up against the wall. 

Hux kisses back as hard as he can, but Ren is overwhelming him. Or maybe it’s the Force itself. Hux’s skin feels like it’s on fire, and he can’t get close enough to Ren. As if on cue, Ren’s hand withdraws from his hair and reappears at his waist, pulling their hips flush.

And there it is—Hux can feel the press of Ren’s pregnant belly against his slack one. He cries out softly into Ren’s mouth, but Ren swallows it, biting his lower lip. He’s hard now, almost painfully so, and he can feel Ren’s erection against his. Hux fists his hands in Ren’s cloak and grinds, as slowly as he can manage in this state, against Ren. Ren gives a throaty groan in his ear.

He’s aware, on some level, that they’re dry-humping like teenagers in a open conference room, but the chance of discovery is no deterrent—only serves to turn him on further. Ren bends slightly to kiss and suck at Hux’s neck, and the friction of that movement against his cock makes his eyes roll back. 

“How long?” Ren asks, sliding a hand down Hux’s back to grab his ass. Hux rocks his hips against Ren’s, and he’s—he’s close, he can feel it. 

“You know,” Hux pants. “You know how long.” 

Ren licks at a patch of skin on Hux’s neck, and then bites down—gently, but painfully enough to make an impact. Hux gives up trying to control himself, and begins to rut in earnest against Ren. 

Ren grabs at his ass again, almost lifting Hux off of the floor, and whispers in Hux’s ear, “You wish you did this to me.”

Hux comes at the thought, slumping against Ren and the wall Ren’s pushed him against. Ren finishes a moment later, and they lean against the wall, breathing heavily. 

There’s a sound of boot steps outside the conference room, and they spring apart. Ren looks disheveled ( _I did that_ , Hux thinks, victoriously), but his robes look more or less the same. Hux knows the same can’t be said for him; he’s grateful that his next appointment is outside, necessitating the greatcoat. He buttons it to hide the wet spot slowly seeping through his trousers.

“Supreme Leader Snoke,” Ren says, “will send me to the Outer Rim when it’s time for my delivery.”

Hux nods. “When will that be?”

“Not for some time yet.” Ren glances out the door, seemingly checking for intruders, and then presses himself up against Hux again. Even so recently sated, Hux feels his cock stir again at the curve of Ren’s stomach. “I suggest,” Ren says, smiling wickedly, “that we make the most of that time.”

Hux smirks back.


End file.
